The Bakery
by itsjustalovestory
Summary: "tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much that he died every night to let her breathe."


The thing is, Gary's always loved this bakery. He loves the cracks in the pleather upholstery in the booths, the way the linoleum tiles are slightly off centered near the stools at the counter, and the 60's jukebox that sat in the corner that has never worked a day in Gary's life.

He loves the bakery. But he can't shake the feeling of loneliness that has recently entered it, filling up all of the nooks and crannies. He's always come here every night, content to sit at a booth and read a dog-eared book until the sun rays radiate through the windows every dawn. Gary's always fancied himself a night person, and he's perfectly content with it.

The silence of the night is always welcome, the quiet darkness the perfect atmosphere for tea and flickering lights. But Gary can't help but wish for the company of the sun, wishes that he could have some of that brightness and warmth in his life.

He curls up into his usual booth, his favourite book and a cup of tea at the ready. He settles himself down for a long night, the other customers slowly trickling out of the bakery. Sometimes, the odd insomniac will creep in, joining Gary for a night of reevaluations and silent thoughts. They come and go, and if it's a good night, some will cluster like constellations in the night sky. But more often than not, Gary is the sole person in the bakery, save for Mary, the sweet old lady who works behind the counter. She always makes it a point to save him the last macadamia cookie, and slips it into his hand when he gets his tea.

Tonight Gary's got his favourite book, one that he's loved since he was a child. The back cover has a big rip down the middle, one that's been patched over many times with various types of tape. Many people call tattered books "worn-down" or "used" but Gary thinks they've just been loved to pieces. Gary wishes he could be loved to _pieces_, but for now, he'll read another chapter and drink his tea, and in the morning, he'll leave the bakery.

As the sun's rays peek over the horizon, Gary slips out of his booth and into the bathroom. After this, he'll begin the drive home, only to return at night.

The door slams open whilst he's washing his hands. He looks up to see a guy smiling at him in the mirror. The _guy_ is cute, so of course Gary promptly splashes water all over his shirt.

"Oops." His cheeks immediately flame up, and he can't believe he could be so clumsy.

The guy simply smirks, never breaking eye contact. "Hey."

And when Gary turns around from the mirror, the guy seems even more unreal. He's really pretty. Like really insanely pretty. His skin is tanned, with the barest hint of stubble on his chin.

It's sun-kissed so perfectly, just so it seems the sun is almost radiating from his soul. And he's got these eyes, just like the sky or the o ocean, absolutely twinkling, and Gary's always had a thing for blue eyes, it's just a weakness of his. He feels so corny for even describing him like this, but it's true. Gary could love him to pieces, he thinks.

Then the small guy laughs and his mouth opens wide and there are little crinkles by his twinkly eyes and Gary wants to poke the little pouchy skin under his eyes to see if it's as soft as it looks.

Unfortunately, it's time for Gary to go, so it's a quick smile towards the guy and Gary's tripping over his feet on the way out, and wishing he could stay for just a minute longer.

And that night when Gary comes back, the rays of the sun slowly fading into darkness, the guy is slipping out the bakery door, a pastry in his hand and a smile on his face. They stop and orbit for a few moments, and Gary finally gets a name for the face. Mark.

They dance around each other for a few minutes at dawn and dusk each day, Mark illuminating the shadows of Gary's life.

Mary asks when Gary's going to "man up and ask that guy out" one day when she hands him his coffee. Gary doesn't know.

When Gary finally finds some courage, tucked away in the corners of his mind, he stops Mark's gentle banter and asks if Mark could maybe stay for a little longer. Mark looks so pained, but shakes his head and ducks out of the door. It almost breaks Gary's heart, and that night when he's reading his book and his eyes fall upon the line "some people are meant to fall in love with each other, but not be together", he breaks, and suddenly he's wiping his eyes with a napkin and wishing he could be allowed to love Mark to pieces.

The next morning, Gary slips out of the back way, and pretends to ignore the sight of Mark looking lost as he pulls out of the parking lot.

But that night, as he passes Mark in the doorway, Mark grabs his jacket and pulls him away from the illumination of the lights of the bakery. When Mark comments on Gary's lack of interest in their conversation, Gary mumbles something about how Mark made it very clear he wasn't interested. Mark's voice shakes and it appears as if he's about to cry as he says "I died a little last night, you idiot. I die a little every night just passing you by. It's impossible though, you and me. We can cherish the few minutes we have together, but we can never truly exist simultaneously."

Somehow, Gary understands. He's grateful for the times in which Mark brightens his life, if only for a few minutes.


End file.
